Your pet adoption stories

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Pretty much everyone here, I’d wager, has adopted a pet or two (or three, or four, or…) and has a story about it. Here is mine for my latest adoption.

A beat-up old stray. That’s what he was, when the rescue took him in. Skinny, fur matted, filthy, ears crumpled from frantic scratching at chronic ear mite infestation, “Gerald” (as they named him) had survived for who knows how long on the streets. He wasn’t feral; he liked people, so he’d once been someone’s pet; but now, old, half-starved, stiff with arthritis, he waited for a better future in one of the free-roaming cat rooms at the shelter.

I’d just had to say goodbye to Sally, a sweetheart, a tiny, lithe house panther, whom I’d had from a kitten to her loss in her midteens, and had turned to the website for the rescue the following day to see what seniors might be in residence, awaiting a new home. And there he was: round-faced, crumpled ears, double paws up front, giant feet, rumpled tuxedo — and I knew. I knew I had to adopt him.

To the car! To the road! To the shelter! And so he came home to a new life and a new name: “Bruiser”. He’d had all necessary vet care at the shelter, of course (they’re a topnotch cat rescue), but I took him to my own vet practice to set him up as a new patient. The visit held no terrors for him: While there, he took a nap on the exam table.

He’s reasonably healthy for a beat-up old guy — age uncertain, but likely older than the arbitrary ten years the shelter assigned — and he gets monthly shots of Solensia for his arthritis, which has worked wonders for him. He needed a lion cut when I couldn’t comb and brush all the mats out. He’s filled out and stabilized at a healthy weight on four meals a day of wet food and free-choice kibble. He’s a lovely old fellow with decided opinions on when and how I should pat him or offer laptime. He’s chill at the vet but tells them clearly when he’s had enough. I hope I have several more years with him.

2

I have pulled TWO cats out of storm drains (several years and 600 miles apart). We adopted the first one, but the second one was adopted by a friend of my wife’s. In both cases, I saw the cats fall into the storm drains trying to hide from a pursuing cat and dog. We had that cat for 15 years.

Incredibly, we adopted another cat who was rescued from a storm drain outlet by someone else and saved from drowning by the county DPW folks coming out in an emergency to remove the grate covering the outlet of the storm drain into a retention pond. A few hours later a big summer thunderstorm made that outlet a gushing torrent. The two kittens would have been either drowned or mangled. God bless the municipal workers going above and beyond. We took one of the kittens when he was fixed at 4.5 months. He was with us for 11 years.

Our current dog was taken by Animal Control because their humans had become too infirm to care for her and she was roaming the neighborhood a couple of miles from our house, terrorizing children and dogs. We saw the reports of the incident on Facebook, and six months later we applied to be adoptive dog parents at the neighborhood shelter and after talking with the shelter management several times they asked if we were willing to take in a difficult dog (I give off a certain vibe, I guess). Yup, the same terrified, reactive dog we had seen on Facebook had been in the shelter for seven months (taken in at Thanksgiving adopted on July 3). She growled and barked at me for 30 minutes at the first meeting and we parted without reaching a decision. When I came back two days later to take her home, she came quietly and six hours later she was sleeping with her head on my belly.

Took some serious patience, but she’s the most chill, loving creature imaginable. At age 5 after seven months in a tiny box, she was getting winded after half a mile walking, this afternoon at age 10 she ran three miles in the snow and was bouncing at the end of it.

3

The last time we went to the shelter to find a cat one diminutive generic striped cat sat in all four of our laps in turn. At 16 she’s still a lap cat. The adoptions of our dog and other cat were fairly routine.

4

Mrs. L.A. had a cat named ‘Vel’ (short for ‘Velcro’). Vel didn’t like anyone except for CatMom. I visited when CatMom lived in Washington. Vel climbed onto my lap. The future Mrs. L.A. was astonished and impressed. She moved to Tennessee, where Vel eventually died. Mrs. L.A. wanted another cat, and went to a shelter. There was a male tuxedo ‘stray’ there. Mrs. L.A. had to think about it. She decided that if this well taken care of, neutered, ‘stray’ had been declawed, she’d adopt him. She went back the next day, and the cat had been declawed. She adopted him and named him Harvey. Harvey had seizures, which were scary; but were kept fairly well under control with Phenobarbital. She moved in with me in 2010, and brought Harvey with her. Sadly, Harvey died at eight years old from a sudden respiratory ailment.

We were pretty broken up by the loss of Harvey, but CatMom decided it was time to get a new cat a few months later (2013). We went to The NOAH Center in Stanwood, WA and she asked for the cat that had been there the longest. Tonka was eight years old. He’d been at NOAH for six months, and had been in a shelter in Spokane for a long time before that. He’d lost at least half of his tail sometime in his life. Tonka died a few days short of turning 17½ years old, in June 2021.

Creamsickle adopted us. We’d see her in the yard and say, ‘There’s that creamsicle kitty.’ We didn’t know if Creamsicle was make or female. We gave her some food, and she decided she’d stay. We think she belonged to a woman on the next street over who died. Creamsicle was a mighty huntress, in spite of her short legs and little mouth. She once caught a squirrel and brought it inside. We think her hunting was her undoing. She died at only six years old from kidney failure. We suspect she’d eaten a poisoned mouse.

Tonka and Creamsicle were friends. When Creamsicle died, we adopted Goo from NOAH in 2019. Goo’s official birthday was June 22, 2013. That makes her 12 years old now. She struts around with her tail straight up, curled at the top like a cartoon cat. She’s very food-oriented. She didn’t get along with Tonka at first, and she would bat at him (even after he went blind). But they’d sleep together.

CatMom decided Goo needed a friend, so we went back to NOAH and adopted Abbey. Her official birthday was June 3rd, 2020. So she’s five and a half now.

And that brings us to Findus. I named him after the cat in the Pettson and Findus books. We got him as a four-month-old kitten in November from a foster mom in Bellingham. He was quite fearless until Goo became territorial. Goo still gets all puffy with him and tries to attack him, but we’re showing her that she’s still allowed to sleep on CatMom’s bed. We’re bringing Findus out into the living room so that he can be with me and CatMom and Goo and Abbey, and he’s safe. He’s venturing out more now (again). Abbey used to growl at him, but now it’s mainly just hissing when Findus chases her or tries to play with her. I feed all of the cats together in the kitchen, and everyone gets along. Abbey seldom finishes her ration of gooshy food, and food-motivated Goo will actually sit quietly while Findus goes over to finish Abbey’s dish. (I have to restrain Findus to keep him from disturbing Abbey while she’s still eating.) CatMom says that the seemingly-successful integration is my doing, as she would sequester him to keep him safe.

5

We got Mario about a year and a half ago, from a local rescue. The story goes, he was running with a feral colony and got caught up in a trap-and-release operation. While at the vet getting snipped, the staff realized he wasn’t feral. He knew how to use the litter box, he wasn’t afraid of people - in fact, he was seeking their attention. So rather than being returning him to the streets, he was put in the adoption pool. He has a clipped ear and everything.

The rescue told us they thought Mario was about four years old at the time. That would make him going on six now. I think he’s younger - he has the energy of a newly-adult cat.

As you can see from the pics, he’s quite the character.

6

Both my current two cats, Buddy and Kasya, came courtesy of the UCDS guiding strays in my apartment complex to my household. Their feline predecessors, Felix (RB) and Allie (RB), came from shelters, Allie within a few days of Felix’s passing (we just couldn’t stand not having a cat).

Our first dove, Ava (RB), showed up wounded on our doorstep one cold night and stayed with us for the remaining 17 years of her lifespan. Our current dove, Misty, is the only pet we’ve actually bought.

7

Most recently I was doing a rescue dog transport, and the person I was meeting texted me a picture of a Himalayan-looking cat. At a previous meetup, I’d told her I’d only ever had Siamese, and lost my last 2 at 18 years a few years before. She worked rescuing cats on the side and this girl had been dumped at a local trailer park. Did I want her? So when I went to pick up the transport puppy, I came home with a full-grown cat. I made an appointment immediately with my vet, and found out that “Molly” had a penis. Milo is adult - between 5-8 years old and the most loving cat I’ve ever had. He’s settling in nicely - he is allowed to come out of his part of the house if he wants, but has his own set up because I have dogs and wanted him to feel safe.

The pet before Milo is Valentine. She was dumped near my farm on Valentine’s day. Just about a year old and as sweet as can be.

StG

8

My wife fosters kittens too young to adopt, sometimes with and sometimes without their mothers, for a local animal shelter. She’s fostered over 100 kittens and mom cats over the years.

Our two 11 year old cats are from her first fostered litter-- the shelter affectionately calls that a ‘foster fail’-- when the foster family keeps them instead of giving them back to the shelter to find them a family.

9

In October of 2020, our boxer/French mastiff mix died and a few weeks later our boxer died. The mastiff mix had bone cancer and the boxer had a tumor on his liver. They were both only 6 yo. We were devastated and decided to wait until spring before we got another dog. We hadn’t been without a dog for more than a few months since we were married in 1982. I would look at the local shelter’s website every couple of days, just to see what was out there. One day, lo and behold, the shelter had a Great Dane up for adoption. I’d always dreamed of having one. It was January, far from our agreed upon time line. I called the shelter anyway to ask about him. I was told that someone had already adopted him. A week later, the shelter called me and told me that the family decided not to take him. I asked some questions about him. He was 11 months old and had been surrendered by his original family. I asked why and was told “he was too big”. :thinking: I was also told that one of his good qualities was that he was good in a crate for up to 12 hours. 12 HOURS!!! I can bet that he had been stuffed into a crate that was way too small for him too.

I went for a meet and greet. I played with him in the the play yard and took him for a walk around the grounds. It was pretty much a done deal after that. I brought my husband to see him the next day. We were both smitten. Because we were told he spent a lot of time in a crate, we thought he had to be in one. Before he came home with us, I looked high and low for a crate big enough for him. The local stores didn’t have any. Amazon did, but I wouldn’t receive it before he came home. We baby-gated a room off and put a huge, luxurious bed and toys in it for him for the first night. We had no idea what to expect. Bedtime came, we put him in his bedroom, and he immediately tried to climb over the baby gate (we mounted it fairly high because of his size). So he slept with me in a full-size bed the first two nights. He was a good boy. We finally got the giant circus train crate. We put him in it when we left for work. It took some coaxing, probably because he thought he’d be in there for 12 hours! We soon found out that he didn’t need the crate at all. He had free-range of the house and never did anything naughty.

He has a few quirks and Great Dane traits (the slobber that gets flung everywhere when he shakes!) but all in all, he’s been a wonderful dog and we love him with all our hearts. Huckleberry (Huck) is lounging on the couch with me right now. He’s taking up about 95% of the couch!

10

Our current dog was rehomed to us. Our prior dog was succumbing to tumors on his lungs and one day he had a hard time breathing. I took him (for what was to be his last ride in a car) to the vet, and they told us it would be best to put him down at that point - which we agreed-to. I hated the way it all went so quickly and was mourning him in tears for two weeks straight. My wife mentioned someone she knows heard about what happened and offered for us to take a look at a dog the person’s son was getting ready to give up, and sent a photo my wife shared with me (she knew it would stick in my head!). A couple days later I asked about the dog, and we arranged to meet her.

Her back story is that the owner has split with her husband, and the kids went back and forth between the two homes, and they liked the dog the had had gotten, so the mom got this dog, so the kids would, ya know, like being at her house, too. But the kids did not like this dog, and the dog was highly energetic, and there was a toddler in the house that was getting knocked over. And no one wanted to spend any time with her to show her what to do and how to behave around people. She was let in at night and crated, and then let out each morning to spend the day alone outside.

When we got to the house, we could hear her barking, while on the picnic table in the back yard. She was jumping and going crazy - evidently, she had not met anyone other than the people in the house. We agreed that if she bit one of us, it was a no-go. But we went out back and she ran around us until she tired. We sat down and let her come up to us, and finally, she took a taste, a few licks, and then she let me play with her. Okay, it looks like this is going to work out! We took her on a walk with the owners - she pulled all over the place - no manners at all - this was going to be a challenge! They told us if we were not going to take her, she’d be taken to the shelter after the weekend. We took her out of that place of loneliness and frustration.

She is smart and quick to learn, and after the first two weeks of hell, she finally started trusting us, and learned more, and got a lot better at everything. Most of her anxious quirks are gone, but not all of them. She has been great for, what, going on 5+ years now! Very sweet, affectionate, active, and protective. I still think about how I was suffering at the loss of our previous dog, and how at the same time she was suffering in a different way, and somehow the universe helped make a connection we both really needed at that moment.

11

Oh, that sticking the dog in the backyard and neglecting it story brings up a memory. I didn’t adopt the dog in question since I’m strictly cats.

It was a young dog some friends of mine had got to be a companion to their old dog, but being young, energetic (German Shepherd in the ancestry), and untrained, it was of course a rambunctious nuisance compared to the old guy, so they wound up keeping it on a chain behind their house and rarely interacted with it.

One day I was visiting and went out to see the dog, which was pathetically excited to see me, leaping up, twisting itself sideways, tail thrashing. I put a leash on it, unhooked it from the chain, and gently pushed it down – not shoving or hitting, not barking “NO!” but quietly, calmly rewarding it with soft pets when it dropped back down. I let it sag against my leg in bliss at getting attention, giving it ear skritches and strokes, then began teaching it to heel and sit – again with soft voice, gentle correction, and loads of praise. I must have spent at least an hour out there, but by the time I walked around the house to where the family was sitting at a picnic table, the poor dog was walking politely at my side and sat when I asked him to.

They were stunned and, I think, a bit disgruntled that I’d been able to do what they hadn’t. I didn’t visit there often to continue working with the dog, but heard from them that it escaped, was found and brought back by an animal control officer (whose kids loved it and wanted to keep it), eventually escaped again and its fate we never learned. I guess they never bothered to follow up on what I’d done.

I should point out that I haven’t been a dog owner and never was taught how to train a dog, just went with what seemed to make sense with an intelligent, lonely young dog who just wanted a human to please. I hope he found someone who knew how to be that for him.

12

Awww.
We have two-

We were looking for an older boy cat at the shelter. No luck. But later one of the shelter volunteers contacted us- some older woman had gone into a hospice, and left her old cat to her children, who promised to take care of him. Well, he had been an only cat with a stay at home owner for years, so brought into a new home with kids, etc, and he got grumpy- so they gave him to the shelter. (at least they didnt dump him). But a older grumpy cat? No one wanted him. So the volunteer contacted us, we met in a welcome room. My wife- an older lady who has been called a “cat whisperer”- that was who this grumpy cat had been waiting for, and they fell in love. Big fluffy orange boy.

Then months later, when i was feeding the birds, i noticed a small orange cat in the back yard, so i put out some dry food. After a bit, the cat was waiting for me, then she started wanting affection. So we took the cat to the vet- who said it was a girl, who had been neutered (orange girl cats are kinda rare), so we adopted her. She is very loving and cuddly.

13

Oh, cats have definite preferences for humans. Bruiser likes me well enough but doesn’t like being held for very long – except at the vet’s office, when staffer Nick is there. Nick adores Bruiser, Bruiser loves Nick, and Nick can carry Bruiser around like a baby for as long as he likes. Recently Bruiser’s blood pressure had to be taken (they have tiny cuffs of various sizes for cats and dogs, did you know that?), Nick cuddled Bruiser in his arms throughout the BP taking as well as the testing of his eye pressures, and Bruiser put up with it all with only a couple of low growls and one hiss.

14

We got our first dachshund when I was 4 or 5 but don’t remember us picking him up. After my father passed away when I was 11, a couple months later my mother decided it would be a good idea to get a second dog. She contacted the Humane Society and told them she was looking for a doxie. Couple of weeks later, they contacted her a about a dog being taken care of by a vet.

So we went to the vet’s office, went downstairs to the small animal cages. The vet assistant opened the cage with her back to us, she turned around and put this thing on the floor. It was pink, gray and scabby and immediately released a noxious puddle of urine. To be honest we were sort of mortified and really wondered do we want this thing? But, the look of pure unadulterated joy in that dog’s whole damaged body made it a really hard decision. How many times had she seen other animals get out of their cage but not her.

I have no idea how the vet could justify the condition of this dog. She had mange so bad she had no fur but lots of scabs. Her hips were extremely splayed from so much time in a cage, she could barely walk. The story was old lady owner passed, her friend took the dog but had a bunch of cats so she kept the dog in a cage and then eventually she got to the Humane Society. We really didn’t want that thing, but we couldn’t put it back into that cage.

We took her home, it took months of vet visits to beat the mange. We also had to beat the mange, special shampoo, lots and lots of laundry washings etc… Her hair grew back really fine and barely a quarter inch long but never on her belly which remained hairless for the rest of her life. When we got her, she couldn’t climb a two-three inch curb. A year or so later she was jumping onto my mom’s tall bed. It took over a year for her to really trust us and for that matter for us to trust her. Initially, if someone had her on their lap, she would aggressively growl if someone approached her while on said lap. Mitzie grew out of that and became a very sweet girl. I do not know if she did, but I hope my mom contacted the Humane Society to report the horrible conditions that vet was keeping that poor sweet dog.

15

Years ago, we decided to get a dog. We wanted a lab, as the ones we knew were great with kids. I call the local Humane Society:

“Do you have any labs?”
“Well, we have a dog that’s sort of a lab.”

We go there. The dog is NOT a lab. He has white fur so thin, you can see his pink skin through it. He’s skinny. His nose is weirdly tipped up. He shivers a lot. I envision a nervous nellie (so to speak) piddling when the mail arrives. However, his back story gets me: a farmer had found him lying at the side of the road. He was so emaciated and weak, the guy almost shot him to put him out of his misery. Instead he lifted him into his pickup and brought him to the HS. In the two weeks they had him, he’d gained 10 pounds, they say. He shivers because he has so little fur and is frightened. He also shows signs of previous abuse.

We take him home. Within a few weeks, he fills out. His muzzle straightens out. Over time, his fur gets thicker. He turns into a handsome English setter.

He was sweet and gentle with our son and, a year later, our baby daughter. He was gun-shy, so we turned down many requests to take him hunting, but he’d go into point at a fly on the fridge. He was about 5 when we got him and lived another happy 12 years.

I still dream about him.

16

Yep. The grumpy cat is solidly my wife’s, he tolerates me. Another cat have claimed my bed as hers.

17

Never officially “adopted” an Animal.

The universal Animal distribution system have me on their radar. They find me.

I never have bought a dog. I did buy 2 Siamese cats. Possibly the worst mistake I ever made getting a pet. I love every hair on their expensive hides. But they are a challenge.

Wild animals like me too.

18

If I start posting in this thread there’s a risk I’ll be typing for days. Four dogs and a much larger number of cats have come into my life over some 55 years, not counting the ones who lived with my parents. I set out to get a few of them, but most of them either wandered in on their own or were left with me by a previous human.

19

I love you guys so much. :smiling_face_with_tear:

20

Wonderful story, thank you. What was his name?